


An Incredibly Specific Prophecy

by Deathscythe_Demiguy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: FTM Harry, Gen, Multi, Trans Harry, Trans!Harry, ftm!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-21 16:23:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20696504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathscythe_Demiguy/pseuds/Deathscythe_Demiguy
Summary: Hattie Lilian Potter is “The Girl Who Lived” but she’s just barely used to knowing she’s a wizard when everything she knows is turned on it’s head. A timid, cowardly boy named Neville is supposed to be “The Chosen One” but when strange things begin to happen, stranger than usual, Hattie learns that something is wrong. A dark force has returned, but Neville doesn’t seem to have the ability to stop it.When she and her friends manage to defeat the dark lord, for now at least, everyone around them seems to be incredibly concerned about a prophecy. As she uncovers more about the prophecy and grows to know herself and the world, she starts to wonder if maybe everyone has it wrong.Should she speak up and have her life irreversibly changed? Or go on living the same way she has been, knowing the truth?





	1. Intro

**Author's Note:**

> This is the start of a fic that will span the entire series. I may break it into parts. This is just a very short intro.

Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. They had ordinary lives and were more than comfortable. But as with all perfectly normal families with perfectly normal lives, There were secrets to be had. 

It wasn’t until one gray morning that their secrets were to be exposed. The morning started normal enough, but as Mr Dursley made his way to work, he caught the whispers among several cloaked people in the coffee shop. 

"The Potters, that's right, that's what I heard--"

"-- yes, their child, Hattie--"

That was the beginning of the end of their perfect, normal, ordinary life. You see, Mrs. Dursley had a sister who had married some good-for-nothing, Potter. He returned home and waited. And waited. And waited some more. Finally, when he and his wife were sure that he had been over-reacting, they had gone to bed, vowing to forget the entire thing had happened.

It wasn’t until the next morning, when Mrs. Dursley went to put out the milk bottles that she found the child, sound asleep until her screams had so rudely woken the babe. The infant was wrapped in a large gray blanket, clutching a letter. When she pulled the note free and read it through, Mrs. Dursley pulled the baby inside, beginning to cry. Her sister was dead.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

It had been over ten years since Hattie Lillian Potter had been left on their doorstep on that fateful night. In fact, it was her eleventh birthday that very week, but she hadn’t found any pleasure in the fact, for strange things had been happening. Starting with the mail. 

Hattie had received a strange letter, her first ever. The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowing parchment, and the address to her cupboard was written in shimmering emerald ink. There was no stamp that she could find.

Turning the envelope over, she saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. When Dudley made it known she had gotten something, the peculiar letter was snatched away and the two of them were shooed out of the room while her aunt and uncle whispered urgently about something. When they returned, Hattie was refused her letter and sent to her cupboard to move everything into Dudley’s spare room, much to his dismay.

The next morning, breakfast was tense. Everyone was silent. Dudley was sulking. Hattie was thinking about the previous morning and bitterly wishing she’d opened her letter in the corridor before they had seen. 

When the mail arrived, there was another one. The letter looked exactly the same, save for the address, which was to her new bedroom. This letter was also taken from her and she was sent away to her room. 

The next day, she had tried and failed to get to the door for the mail without waking the Dursleys. Mr. Dursley had been sleeping below the mail slot and had destroyed all three letters addressed to her. 

Things continued in much the same way over the next few days. On Friday, they’d received at least a dozen letters, all destroyed. Saturday things really started to get out of hand with no less than twenty-four letters, hidden in the two-dozen eggs delivered by a rather confused looking milkman. 

On Sunday, they expected an ordinary morning, but Hattie was amazed when letters began flying through the kitchen chimney. But Vernon had had quite enough. He piled them all into the car and drove them for hours, taking sharp turns or backtracking every so often until they’d arrived at a dingy hotel. 

The next morning, the lady at the front desk informed them of the receipt of at leas a hundred letters. Vernon lost it. He ranted and raved and piled them all back in the car. The drove and drove and drove, stopping in strange places. The arrived at a little shack on the coast late Monday. 

Mr. Dursley piled them into a rickety rowboat as the sky suddenly opened up. It was cold and the sea was rough. They soon arrived, dripping and ice cold, at a tiny island with a shack even more dilapidated than the one they’d gotten the boat from. 

Tomorrow was Hattie’s eleventh birthday and here she was, freezing cold in a dark shack. There was a ratty couch, a bed with a few blankets in the next room, but not much else, and nothing to start a fire with. Hattie was left to curl up on the floor with only a single rotting blanket. She laid there, counting the minutes until she turned eleven. One minute to go and he'd be eleven. Thirty seconds... twenty... ten... nine... eight... seven... six... five... four... three... two... one...

BOOM.

The door burst open to reveal a giant man, face nearly covered in a thick, ratty beard. The giant of a man ducked into the tiny shack and set a fire going, babbling about tea and long journeys, but something caught her attention. "Anyway Hattie," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here -- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

He reached into an inner pocket and produced a small, slightly squashed box. When Hattie opened it, she was surprised to find that it was a small chocolate cake with “Happy Birthday Hattie.” written on it in green icing. She learned, after a chat and some tea that the man was Rubeus Hagrid, groundskeeper of Hogwarts. 

The most shocking thing she had gathered from the man, though, was about her parents. And about herself. They had been wizards, and they had died in an attack by a dark lord that had been destroyed by them, all three of them. Her parents had saved her somehow and destroyed the dark lord. They were all a bit famous in the world the came from, the wizarding world.

They hadn’t died in a car crash. Her parents were important wizards. She was a wizard, too. They were murdered and brought about the end of a war. As Hagrid’s booming voice recounted everything that had happened to them all, Hattie was quietly fuming. They KNEW and they never told her. They’d treated her as a live-in maid. 

After much shouting, the Dursley’s fled the shack, leaving Hattie and Hagrid together. The next day they had a lot to do. Gather books, school supplies, clothes. She was getting clothes that fit! She was going to attend the same school her parents had. To learn magic! She thought this all must be a dream. 

The next morning she awoke beneath Hagrid’s heavy coat to find that this was actually happening. She was actually a wizard. They were actually going to do this. She was so excited that she couldn’t get back to sleep. 

They took to the streets of London after a quick breakfast. Hattie was so overwhelmed with everything, that she didn’t notice that Hagrid had stopped in front of a rather grubby looking pub until she bumped right into him. 

“Careful there, ‘attie. This is the place. The Leaky Cauldron. It’s famous.” 

If it hadn’t been pointed out, she barely would have noticed the tiny run down pub. She definitely wouldn’t have known it was famous. The inside was dark and as shabby as the outside. The low hum of patrons’ chatter stopped when they walked in. 

Everyone seemed to know Hagrid. They waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Hattie's shoulder.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Hattie, "is this -- can this be -- ?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Hattie Potter... what an honor."  
He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Hattie and grabbed her hand with tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Miss Potter, welcome back."

There was a moment where everything was silent, and then the pub burst into movement, everyone crowding around them. She found herself shaking the hands of nearly every patron at The Leaky Cauldron. 

A thin, pale young man mad his way forward, seeming quite nervous. His eye would twitch every so often, and he appeared to be trembling. 

“Professor!” Hagrid boomed at the man. “Hattie, this is Professor Quirrell, one of the teachers at Hogwarts.” 

"P-P-Potter," Professor Quirrell stammered, grasping Hattie’s hand with his clammy one, "c-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you."

"What subject do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," the professor said a bit dismissively, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously.

Hattie wasn’t sure just what he meant and was about to ask when Hagrid spoke up. "Must get on --lots ter buy. Come on, ‘attie."

Hagrid stepped out and took them to a small courtyard. “Stand back, ‘attie.” He said as he brought his umbrella up to tap on a particular brick. That brick began to quake, then ripple. A small hole formed and rapidly grew until there was a full sized archway that led to a winding cobblestone road.

“Brilliant!” Hattie exclaimed and Hagrid chuckled at her amazement. 

The sun glinted off a stack of cauldrons, a collection of copper, silver, brass in all sizes. The signage above read “Collapsible” and there were a few people that looked to be around her age gathered around the storefront. People hurried to and fro in the street lined with shops.

From there, they headed for Gringotts, a massive bank mostly run by wizards. Hagrid told her that her parents had left quite a bit for her. They gathered what was needed and Hagrid stopped off to do something in one of the Hogwarts vaults.

When they were back out on the street, money in hand, she unfolded the bit of parchment with her supplies list and read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY  
UNIFORM  
First-year students will require:  
1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)  
2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear  
3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)  
4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)  
Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS  
All students should have a copy of each of the following:  
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk  
A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot  
Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling  
A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch  
One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore  
Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger  
Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander  
The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT  
1 wand  
1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)  
1 set of glass or crystal phials  
1 telescope set  
1 brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Hattie wondered what kind of shop would have all of these things as she followed the hulking man through the crowded street. They entered Madam Malkin’s Robes, but Hagrid left her to it, needing a drink after the high-speed transportation in Gringotts vaults. 

So there she stood, on her own, waiting to be fitted for her Hogwarts uniform. A squat, smiling witch came up from the back and ushered her up onto a small stool. Beside her was a boy with a rather pointed, pale face, long robes being pinned by another witch. Hattie slipped a strand of wild dark hair behind her ear as Madam Malkin began fitting her robe.

“Hogwarts, too?” The pale boy asked. 

“Yes.” Said Hattie. 

“My father is off buying my books, and Mother’s looking at wands. When I’m finished here, I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. Do you have a broom?” The boy had a bored, drawling voice that only sounded marginally less bored when he spoke of racing brooms. 

“No.” Hattie answered, feeling a little out of place. 

“Do you play any Quidditch.” the boy asked, letting out an impatient huff.

“Not at all.” Hattie wondered what exactly quidditch was. She’d have to ask Hagrid later.

“Well I do. And Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No," said Hattie, feeling more inadequate by the minute.

"Well, no one really knows until they get there, but I know I'll be in Slytherin. All our family have been. Can you imagine being sorted into Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

Hattie gathered that Hufflepuff and Slytherin were houses at Hogwarts, though she wasn’t sure what a house was in this context or how they get sorted into them.

“Um...” Hattie wished she could come up with anything to say. Hufflepuff wasn’t where she wanted to be from what little she knew, but she was sure she wouldn’t want to be in Slytherin with this prat. 

"I say, look there!" said the boy suddenly, pointing toward the front window. Hagrid was standing there, grinning at Harry and pointing at two large, dripping, ice creams to show he couldn't come in.

"That's Hagrid," Hattie said, quite pleased to know something the blonde boy didn't. "He works at Hogwarts."

"Oh," said the boy, "I've heard of him. He's some sort of servant, right?"

"He's the gamekeeper," said Hattie. She was liking the boy less every second. He reminded her of her cousin. 

"Yes, exactly. I heard he's nearly feral, lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his hut."

"I think he's brilliant." Hattie said coldly.

"Do you?" said the boy, with a sneer. "Why is he with you, anyway? Where are your parents?"

"If you must know, they’re dead." Hattie said shortly. She didn't really feel like going into everything with this boy.

"Oh, sorry," said the boy, not sounding very sorry at all. "But they were, you know. They were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard, if that's what you mean."

"I honestly don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families. What's your name, anyway?"

Before Hattie could answer, Madam Malkin practically shooed her off of the stool. “All done, dear.” 

"I'll see you at Hogwarts, I assume.” said the boy as she left.

Hattie took the ice cream offered to her and asked when they were away from the shop, "Hagrid, what's Quidditch?"

"Blimey, I keep forgettin' how little yeh know!” Hagrid boomed.

"Don't make me feel worse.” she said before she told Hagrid about the pale boy in Madam Malkin's.

"He said people from Muggle families shouldn't be accepted at Hogwarts."

"Yer not from a Muggle family. If he'd known who yeh were, ‘attie! He's grown up knowin' yer name if his parents are wizardin' folk. You saw what everyone in the Leaky was like when they saw yeh. An’ anyway, what does he know about it? Some o' the best I ever saw were the only ones with magic in a long line o' Muggles. Look at yer mum! Look what she had fer a sister!"

"Excuse me, but what IS Quidditch?" Hattie asked, not wanting to think about her parents at the moment.

"It's our sport. Wizard sport. It's like Muggle football played in the air on broomsticks and —sorta hard ter explain the rules."

"And what are Slytherin and Hufflepuff?"  
"School houses. There's four.”

"I bet I'm in Hufflepuff.” Hattie said in despair.

"Better Hufflepuff than Slytherin," said Hagrid. "There's not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin. You-Know-Who was one."

"Vol-, sorry —You-Know-Who was at Hogwarts?" Hattie corrected herself at Hagrid’s uncomfortable expression.

"Years an' years ago," said Hagrid.

They continued on, stopping at several different shops. Flourish and Blotts for a substantial stack of books. Hagrid wouldn’t let her buy ‘Curses and Countercurses (Bewitch Your Friends and Befuddle Your Enemies with the Latest Revenges: Hair Loss, Jelly-Legs, Tongue-Tying and Much, Much More)’ by Professor Vindictus Viridian. He also wouldn’t let her buy a solid gold cauldron, since the list asked for pewter, but they left with a cauldron, vials, a set of scales, and a nice telescope.

When they were done Hagrid said "Just yer wand left -- A yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

"You don't have to--" Hattie flushed red as she replied. 

"I know I don't have to. I know, I’ll get yer animal. How about an owl? All the kids want owls. They carry yer mail an' everythin'." Hagrid said, clapping her on the back as they headed to Eyelops Owl Emporium. Twenty minutes later, they left with a cage holding a beautiful snowy owl. 

“Th-thank you so much! Really, you didn’t have to.” Hattie stumbled over her words a bit as she thanked him. This was her first real birthday present ever. 

"Don' mention it," said Hagrid. "Don' expect you've had many presents from those dreadful Dursleys. Just Ollivander’s now. The best place for wands, and yeh gotta have the best wand."

Hattie was practically vibrating with excitement. This is what she was most looking forward to. The shop was small and shabby with peeling paint. A bell rang somewhere in the back as they entered. Inside, the air was musty, but the tiny shop was neat. Tiny boxes were meticulously stacked on floor to ceiling shelves.

A small man came up behind the counter and greeted them. “Good afternoon.” 

“Hi.” Hattie said awkwardly.

“Oh, yes. Hattie Potter. I thought I’d be expecting you soon. You’ve got your mother's eyes. It seems like yesterday that she was in here buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work."

Mr. Ollivander moved closer and continued to speak. 

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it —it's really the wand that chooses the wizard, though."

Mr. Ollivander had come around the counter and was close enough that their noses were nearly touching. He reached out a slender finger and lightly traced the scar on her forehead from the middle of her forehead down to her eyelid, knocking her round glasses askew. He was a bit creepy, she thought. 

"And that's where...I'm sorry to say I sold the wand that did it," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands... well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do...Anyway, which is your wand arm?” He said, pulling out a measuring tape.

“I’m right handed if that’s what you mean.” She said and extended her arm so he could measure it. 

As he measured, he spoke. 

"Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Miss Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers, and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons, or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard's wand."

He handed her wand after wand, instructing her to give them a wave. She tried. And tried. And tried some more. She had no idea what Mr. Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr. Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere. I wonder, now... yes... what an unusual combination... holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."  
Hattie took the wand and instantly felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. She raised the wand and brought it swishing down through the dusty air. A stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework. 

Mr. Ollivander cried, "Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well... how curious... how very curious..."

He put Hattie’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, "Curious... curious...

"Excuse me, but what's curious?" Hattie asked the man as she was handed the parcel containing her neck wand.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave only one other feather. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother gave you that scar. Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. The wand chooses the wizard, remember... I think we must expect great things from you. After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things too. Terrible things, yes, but great nonetheless."

Hattie paid for her wand after that and was glad to leave. She wasn’t sure she liked Mr. Ollivander very much. Hattie and Hagrid made their way back through the streets, up through the wall behind the Leaky Cauldron, and headed for the station in silence. 

When they got there, Hagrid bought them burgers and chips while they waited. Hattie was quiet, thinking about everything that happened in just one day. Hagrid was looking at her with concern and she decided it was probably best to share her thoughts. 

“Everyone thinks I’m so special,” She said, putting her burger aside. “But I don’t know anything about magic. How can all those people be expecting great things from me when I’ve only just learned that I’m a witch? I can’t even remember what I’m so famous for.” 

Hagrid leaned in close and spoke softly. “Don’ worry, Hattie. You’ll learn. Everyone starts with the basics at Hogwarts. Be yerself and everything will be fine.” 

They chatted until the train arrived to bring her back to the Dursley’s home. Before she stepped inside, Hagrid handed her an envelope. “Hogwarts tickets. Kings Cross, September first.” He said and waved her off. “Go on now, ‘attie. An’ if the Dursley’s give yer any trouble, send me a letter with yer owl. She’ll know where to take it.” 

With that, Hattie boarded the train back, already ready for the next month to be over.


End file.
